


The Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep

by PsychGirl (snycock)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Camping, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snycock/pseuds/PsychGirl
Summary: One of the reasons Jim really loves camping is that he can let his senses go.





	The Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the dedicated participants of the TS Chat, whose feedback and support are so very much appreciated.

Jim took a deep breath, savoring the sharp scent of the pines that surrounded their campsite. He closed his eyes and imagined he could feel the grimy molecules of city air leaving his lungs as he exhaled, to be replaced with the clean fresh air of the forest. 

The bitter smell of woodsmoke tickled at his nose, then, accompanied by its familiar tang in the back of his throat. He sighed and released the tight hold he usually maintained on his senses, letting them out a notch or two, loosening the muscles in his back and shoulders. He rolled his head around on his neck, the tendons cracking.

With little effort he could detect the creaks and whistles of burning wood. It almost sounded like language, one he could understand if he only listened long and hard enough. But Jim resisted the temptation. He’d gone down that road before, to no good end. 

He opened his eyes instead and watched the firelight play across Blair’s skin, golden in the dusk. He’d gotten a sunburn last weekend when they’d been out on the waterfront and Jim could still see the reddish-brown tint across his nose and cheeks. 

Blair was writing in his notebook, and his pen made a pleasant, rhythmic rasp as it moved across the paper. He was sitting cross-legged, notebook on his lap, hair hanging down over part of his face. 

His hair. That was another dangerous temptation for Jim. Chestnut, auburn, mahogany, ochre, with occasional strands of sable, ebony, and gold. The Eskimos had a hundred words for snow, Seattle had forty ways to describe rain, and Jim could find a dozen colors in Blair’s mane and still want for more. 

He blinked to dispel the vision and looked up. The sun had slid behind the mountains a half an hour ago, but the sky still clung to its light. The pines were ragged black towers against a sapphire curtain that darkened to indigo directly above. One tiny star twinkled, nearly straight above them. As Jim watched, another appeared, and then another. 

Jim gripped the earth beneath him, feeling soil crumbling against his fingers, grounding himself. The night sky made him dizzy sometimes. A part of him was tempted to open up his sight, see how far he could go, out among the brilliant stars. But he wasn’t sure he could get back if he did that. 

“Hey.” Blair’s voice, like warm honey, tugged him gently from his reverie. He was smiling at Jim. “Ready for some dinner?”

His senses re-focused on Blair like a compass needle finding north, and gratitude swept through him for his best friend, his lover, his guide, his anchor. “Sure,” he replied, gathering his feet under him.

“I’ll get it,” Blair stood. His hand gripped Jim’s shoulder, warm and solid. “You relax.”

“Thanks, babe,” he said, tugging Blair down for a kiss. Blair’s mouth was slightly cool, still mint-flavored from the tea he had been drinking on the way up. His lips were chapped; their rough texture sent a shiver down Jim’s spine.


End file.
